Before I get into the heart of today’s post I would like to take the opportunity announce my best buddy and part-time writer on this blog, Ron Toel, has just gotten his first cookbook published.  It is called Crockpot Vegetarian Cookbook and it is attractive, exceptionally well written and full of healthy but scrumptuous looking recipes.  There are many Vegan friendly and delicious looking meals here and for you carnivores (like me) there is an abundance of chicken/turkey recipes, or you can substitute and keep this book Vegan.  I got hungry just looking at them.  This book has 233 pages worth of recipes. Please note that I am doing this because Ron is my friend and he has put together a cook book that promotes healthy but delicious meals. No need to mention my name if you decide to buy the book.  There is no financial incentive for me here.

If you are interested, mail $10 for the book, plus $3 shipping ( $13.00) to Ron Toel   2737 Buckeye Drive   Cosby, TN 37722   If you would like to contact him, please use the same address.

Finding Life In The House of Death

Those of you who know me can testify to the fact that I love old buildings, petroglyphs, trains, bridges, cemeteries,  etc. I always have.  I think some find my fascination a bit macabre.  They do not understand the way I view such places.  I am not in love with the feeling of death or lost souls.  I am in love with the feeling of life. Sometimes when you first enter these places there is indeed a feeling of sadness for the neglect of the property, or for those who have lived their lives here, and are now long past.  Those feelings leave me quickly as I begin to celebrate the lives of those who were once here…..not mourn their death.  Where we have been and what we have seen teaches us the one true lesson of where we will go?

Since my first visit to an old abandoned farm-house at the age of 8, and onto the many historic sites that I have visited.  The life within the history has long been my motivation for my love of  history. I want to thank Kristen Westlake for making a post on Facebook that reminded me of those facts.

Today’s post is not about photography, but instead about the subject of history.

The images below are  “rock art” by the Freemont Tribe in eastern Utah. Much like the broken furniture or scattered trash in an abandon farm-house, the carvings and drawings in these petroglyphs do not mourn death, they celebrate life. The stories on the canyon walls tell of a bright and vibrant people.  The sounds of life echo throughout the canyon.

The images below originate in New Mexico’s Peco’s Ruins.

If my memory serves me, the dwelling in this photo dates from the pre-1500s.  It stands proudly in the shadows of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.  Famous Spanish explorer Coronado visited here in approximately 1540. The tribe occupying this area were in fact originally called the Pecos Indians.

I prefer this black and white interpretation of this old dwelling place. I think it captures the essence of the area as it stands proudly against the western sky.

This picture is that of an Indian ceremonial Kiva.  As I climbed down the old wooden ladder I could hear the chanting from five centuries past. Maybe a young boy turning into a man, or a young bride, awaiting her wedding. Like many of the southwestern historic locations I have visited, Pecos was “alive”. 

For those of you who would like to visit spectacular and totally original ruins, it is hard to beat Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado.  You can walk where the ancients walked, and maybe see some wild horses while you do so. I visited there many years ago and managed a beautiful horseback ride while I was there.

I chose the least spectacular location for my final subject. I feel more of us can relate to “the old pavilion”.  There have been places like this in my life.

This old pavilion was built just after World War ll and resides in a small county park just outside of a little crossroads town in Wisconsin‘s north woods.  There is a river in back of the building and a waterfall just a bit “up the river”.  It has been abandoned for a long time but at one point it was basically a carry out restaurant for picnics. A brief look inside tells the story of what was a long time ago, a small dance hall.  I wondered about the people who have come and gone.  At first the silence here was eerie.  Then I could hear the music of that small town band.  I could see the son of the feed store owner asking the banker’s daughter for a dance.  I could see Karl and Lucy (his bride of 50 years) sitting on the porch and reminiscing about their first picnic here. I could smell the hot dogs and fried chicken and wondered if they had ice cream for dessert.  I left satisfied for all the life, and all the living that had taken place here.